


a dream is a wish your heart makes.

by sanctify (pains)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Meeting in dreams, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22973641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pains/pseuds/sanctify
Summary: your rainbow will come smiling through.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ye man i have no idea wtf this is but eyyyyy

Adrien feels like a caged bird, forever made to live within the barred windows and solid walls of his father’s giant prison. 

His mother is gone, sickly and coughing, a weak thing that disappeared one morning.  _ “She’s still alive,” _ a part of him says, hopefully, foolishly.  _ “Maybe she found someone that could help her get better. She’ll come back. I’m sure of it!”  _

_ “You idiot. She’s dead and she left you behind so you wouldn’t have to see her die,” _ a loud sneering—realistic—voice answers. 

_ “She didn’t even say goodbye.” _ A weary voice says, silencing his thoughts of his mother once more.

He’s a caged bird, all alone.

* * *

His dreams are odd. 

They make absolutely no sense.

He dreams of taking flight, of rapid footsteps on cobblestone streets, of horseplay, of trickery, of _laughter._ They don’t make sense, they move too quickly for his sleep-addled brain to understand.

He sees red, red, red. Always the same shade. It’s not the familiar color of blood that’s coated his mother’s tissues when she was still around to use them. It’s a vibrant red, the kind that fills his soul with warmth… and it’s ridiculous that such a color could do that to him, could fill his empty heart with an emotion other than sorrow and indifference, but it’s what happens.

It seems that these dreams are his only respite.

His father has become even more closed-off, only ever appearing when Adrien had a shoot that needed the designer’s expert opinion, and even then, only through the other side of a tablet screen. He locked himself in his office, with only Nathalie as the mediator between himself and the outside of his self-imposed prison.

A doting mother, a hardworking father… 

Missing— _dead_ —mother, absentee father… such was his life.

Funny how fast everything can come crashing down. What did he do to deserve this?

* * *

He comes to in a café he vaguely recalls seeing during one of his photoshoots. It smelled of coffee and baked goods, the sounds around him amplified for some reason, yet comforting all the same.

His observation of his surroundings stops when he hears someone clear their throat.

He doesn’t even realise that he’s seated across another person until then. “I, I’m sorry…!” He focuses on the other person but finds he can’t.

The upper half of their face is covered in shadows and all he can see are their lips. “It’s fine, Adrien, I don’t mind.” They smile.

“How do you know my name?!” He blurts out, surprised.

“Oh.” The person’s hand comes up to cover their mouth. “So this is what he meant…” they whisper, humming in interest. Their hand goes down and wraps around their plastic cup. He can see the caffeinated drink inside, topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. (If his dietician saw something like that within a 10-foot radius of him, she’d have killed him on the spot.)

“This is a dream, Adrien,” they say, smiling once more. “Of course, you probably already know that.”

“Y-yeah. I do.” He bites his lower lip. “How do you know me?” He asks again.

“If the time-line of your dreams is right, we’re going to meet each other soon. I mean, outside of your dreams.” They answer mysteriously. “We’re gonna start off on the wrong foot, but everything’s going to be okay in the end. I guess Plagg and Tikki weren’t kidding. Then again, they’re never wrong when it comes to things like this, no matter how stubborn you can get about this.” They chuckle.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Who are Plagg and Tikki?”

Another mysterious smile. 

“You’ll know in due time, mon coeur.”

He blushes.  _ Mon coeur? _ That was such an intimate way of referring to him.

“In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the rest of your journey.”

The café around him starts fading from his vision, a sign that he was closer to the land of wakefulness than he was in the dream.

“Wait!” He protests. “Who are you? How will I know who you are?”

Their entire figure turns blurry as if his eyes have filled with tears and all he could see are blobs.

Yet he sees piercing blue eyes, like the sky on a cloudless day.

“You’ll find out, Mon Chaton. You’re clever.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have faith in your dreams and someday...

Adrien woke up with the sun in his eyes. He checked his alarm clock, the bright red numbers reading 10:43… Nathalie had let him sleep in.

He stretched tiredly, groaning and yawning.

He had the weirdest dream last night.

He doesn’t recall much of it… but he remembers the café. He remembers talking to someone and feeling surprised. He cannot for the life of him remember what they were talking about, to his dismay.

He does recall some things very well though.

Blue eyes. Very blue eyes, that looked like the sky on a cloudless day. Blue eyes the color of bluebells. 

“Who the heck is Plagg?” He asks, mentioning the other thing he could still recall.

He goes downstairs, dressed in khaki shorts and a blue and white striped shirt.

“Nathalie?” He asks.

There’s no one home.

Odd.

He goes to the only other area of the house where there might be a sign of life… his father’s workroom.

The door is locked, usually meaning that he was too busy to be distracted.

Sighing, he went back to the dining room for another breakfast alone. He knew a cold meal was already waiting for him.

He was halfway to the dining room when it hit him… he was technically home alone right now. Without a guardian watching over him.

If Nathalie wasn’t around to give him a schedule, and Père was busy… that means the Gorilla wasn’t around, right? Meaning he was free to go outside, right?

Having the thought didn’t suddenly summon his father, nor did it summon Nathalie… so he let the thought grow until it became a need.

He needed to go out… sweet freedom. Please. He doesn’t know what most of Paris looks like and he’s been living here for 17 years, how sad is that? Maman never let him out much, either. Worried that something might happen to him if she did… so this was… his first time.

He crept softly to the front door.

He sent a prayer to whichever deity was listening that opening the front door didn’t trigger any alarms.

He opened the door. No alarms, no sudden bars falling to keep him caged inside.

He took one step out, and then another, _and another,_ **_and another._** He kept making steps until he was suddenly running, far, far away from the iron gates of the Agreste Manor.

Freedom.

He had to stop a few minutes later, lungs burning. He didn’t have much stamina at all… having been kept inside the walls of his home all his life. He had a rock-climbing wall, yes, but he didn’t get to use it much. Maybe he should ask Père if he could take yoga classes too? That might help with his stamina problem.

His thoughts are broken when he hears the startled yelp of an old man.

He looks in shock as he sees a tiny old man on the floor, cane laying beside him.

He doesn’t even think.

“Are you alright, Monsieur?” He asks, already helping out the fallen elder. “Any wounds? Do you need help? I could call an ambula—”

The old man laughs, shaking his head. “I just took a tumble, young one. Don’t worry about me.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Yes. Now, you must get along, young man. Don’t you have school?” The old man asks, smiling widely.

“Ah, oh, no, sir… I don’t have school. Um. I’m homeschooled.”

“Oh,” he says, stroking his beard. “I see.”

The man grabs his cane from the ground, patting himself from any traces of dirt one last time, and turns to face away, “Thank you for helping me, young Adrien. It’s time for you to go home, I suppose. May our paths cross again.”

He was too surprised to ask the old man how he knew his name.

_‘Just like the dream.’_

His vision turns black.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @[gininaw](http://twitter.com/reflekdoll) (lol)


End file.
